The Quireboys (or, to us charmless Yanks, The London Quireboys), are part of some rich British tradition that I would title ‘Drunks With Scarves’. Drinking excessively seems to be some kind of pedigree over there. I mean, we shoot each other, you guys stab each other in the guts, it’s a different vibe.
Dogs D’Amour were the champs, of course, until Tyla sobered up or found God or whatever, and so the Quireboys have stumbled their way to the top of that heap. And they are spectacularly good at it. Lead boozer Spike sounds like Rod Stewart, and his gang of thieves sounds like Exile-era Rolling Stones. All good.
